


You make it real

by lostinfictionalworlds



Series: Forevermore [10]
Category: Glee
Genre: 6x13, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Summer, barbeque, new york first apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinfictionalworlds/pseuds/lostinfictionalworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the 6x13 reaction series. Just fluff. Just some Summer-y, barbecue fluff with the title taken from the James Morrison song of the same name and some of the lyrics thrown on in there too. </p><p>Please listen to the song, it’s beautiful and really reminds me of Kurt and Blaine’s relationship : )</p>
            </blockquote>





	You make it real

**Author's Note:**

> A/N- Set the summer they return to New York after getting married to start school again. 6x13 Canon compliant. Song lyrics are in italics.

A billow of black smoke rises and Kurt coughs and giggles as he tries to bat it away with a frosted glass bottle of champagne in his hand. “Is it s’posed to do that?” He sputters.

 

“Probably not.” Blaine grins and shrugs his shoulders. He comes toward Kurt with a kitchen towel in his hand, helping to waft away the remnants of the smoky, charcoal puffs. He pats Kurt on the back for good measure then rubs lovingly at his shoulders. Kurt offers him a kiss in return then sits down on the bean bag chair they’d dragged out from their living room.

 

“You want a straw with that?” Blaine teases, nodding down to the bottle in Kurt’s hand. Kurt only winks and shakes his head before swigging from the bottle a little less than graciously.

 

“This is the last of our wedding stash.” Kurt says after he swallows and holds the bottle out to Blaine. Blaine smiles, steps forward and perches himself on Kurt’s lap, sinking down on and into him. “You have your own deck chair over there.” Kurt points out, laughing but Blaine ignores him and Kurt is more than happy to let it slide. In all fairness the deckchair is probably one use away from collapsing and the striped fabric is barely stitched on enough to hold one ass cheek.

 

“To you, Mr Hummel-Anderson.” Blaine toasts cheerfully as Kurt tips the bottle to his lips and then to his own.

 

“To us.” They grin at each other for a while, all bright eyed and rosy cheeked and share lazy, sweet champagne kisses.

 

When another billow of chalky smoke rises from the corner Blaine jumps up out of Kurt’s lap, mumbling some expletives and stumbles over while picking up a pair of metal prongs along the way from their makeshift patio table.  

 

Kurt giggles, he cannot help the grin on his face as he watches Blaine try to take control of the small aluminium foil tray that they’re trying to pass off as a barbeque. He’s dressed only in a pair of red lounge shorts, Kurt’s slippers which are falling off of his feet and one of Kurt’s night time headbands to push his hair back off his head.

 

“Are the rocks hot yet? They’re supposed to go white.” Kurt says as he stands, heading back through the clear glass sliding doors into their apartment.

 

For their first home as a married couple back in New York, after packing up the loft and helping Rachel move into a nice, small place beside Santana and Brittany; it’s not too bad. Sure it’s the size of a generously shaped shoebox, with a bathroom fitted with only a shower stall, (no tub to Blaine’s sadness) and a kitchen that can only really accommodate two people if the choreography of their movement is planned; but it’s _theirs_ , its _home._ And it’s perfect.

Small or not, it’s still lovely, clean and well-kept with a kind landlady who does actually make herself useful and approachable when ever the boiler gives out or the fire alarm goes off for no reason. It’s freshly decorated and furnished with only the best Kurt Hummel-Anderson approved stuff with a hint of organization and overseeing by Blaine. The bedroom is more like a large, convenient space in the corner of the living area, beside the kitchen where the walls don’t exactly meet, but there’s nothing that an antique divider, a voile sheet and an upstanding bookshelf can’t help with. The bookshelf actually makes for a useful hidey/hole and window combination, perfect for watching the TV out in the front room at while still lying in bed.  

 

They of course don’t plan to spend the rest of their lives here, but it’s more than suitable for them for now while they build their careers and work on their joint future together. Their apartment block is not far from both of their schools, as well as the Diner for Kurt to get to and Blaine has managed to land himself a few shifts at a small music store just a few blocks away.

 

The best and lucky thing about them snagging this apartment, as well as the great rental rates and term agreements, is the fact they have their very own private balcony. Sure it’s only about six steps long and four steps wide, but it’s way better than most other one bed apartments in the East Village.

 

It’s all coming together, now. They’re doing better this time round, much better. They get it now, they’ve worked out how to co-exist, how to share space, how to _respect_ each other’s space and also still love each other through it all. Who said that no good could come from hijacking somebody else’s wedding?

 

Blaine has come to realize that on an early morning while trying to wake up with instantly made coffee, Kurt loves to unhook the living room floor to ceiling drapes, slide open the patio door and scramble back into bed, hugging into Blaine’s side, while they watch the sunrise over the city.

 

An in return, Kurt has come to know what his _husband_ needs after a long, hard day or even week of studying and grafting. Which is why on his way home from work today, he stopped by their local grocery store and grabbed every DIY barbeque necessity needed. They may not have a great deal of space or even money to play around with, but they have each other, they have their vows and their promises and that’s enough.

 

Blaine announces the stones are hot enough for the grilling rack and Kurt comes back out from the apartment with a tray of freshly marinated chicken and vegetable skewers. Together they kneel in front of their tiny makeshift barbeque and cook their dinner together, happily.

 

Blaine’s phone plays music from where it sits on an old crate that they used for moving and have now cleaned up, turned upside down and use for alfresco dining. A playlist plays on repeat that he and Kurt had created back in high school that has only expanded as the years have gone by. Blaine is still occupying Kurt’s bean bag but has been able to find a comfortable position for them both. Again, Kurt will not complain, it’s just another way to freely grope and fondle his husband’s ass.

 

A familiar, upbeat, pleasant song starts up while they finish up their meals and Blaine sings along quietly, smiling as he silently offers Kurt his last chunk of chicken with just his eyes and the nod of his chin.

 

_There's so much craziness surrounding me,_

_There's so much going on it gets hard to breathe_

_When all my faith has gone, you bring it back to me,_

_You make it real for me_

New York certainly is its own kind of crazy, and when you’re here living and working, trying to get by, other kinds of crazy seem to wrangle their way in and implement themselves.

 

At one point, Blaine had thought that the crazy had won. That life was just too much and what he first thought that he needed and wanted maybe wasn’t what was best for him at all.

 

And among it all was Kurt. Sometimes he helped the crazy, sometimes he was the crazy. Sometimes he took the crazy away. But after it all, Kurt was, _is,_ Blaine’s reality, and crazy doesn’t have to be a bad thing at all.

 

Kurt chews happily and when he’s done he slides his plate away from him and leans back in his chair, the best he can with Blaine’s weight as well as his own. The beans underneath the stitching rustle with the movement, causing them both to laugh, and when they’re calm and settled Kurt starts humming along, adding the odd word while Blaine sips from their bottle of champagne, occasionally holding it up to Kurt’s mouth.     

_When I'm not sure of my priorities,_

_When I've lost sight of where I'm meant to be_

_And like holy water washing over me,_

_You make it real for me_

This time around, the last time, hopefully, Kurt had been the one to come to his senses and decide that he and Blaine needed to reunite and this time for good.

_And I am running to you baby,_

_You are the only one who saves me_

_That's why I've been missing you lately,_

_'Cause you make it real for me_

Running back to Lima, running back to Blaine and continuing to chase him back into his life had been both the worst and the best times of Kurt’s life. As awful and heart wrenching as it had been to go through all of that, he needed it. He needed to know, he needed to _remember_ the good times and what Blaine meant to him, and what they were and what they could be together.

_When my head is strong, but my heart is weak,_

_I'm full of arrogance and uncertainty_

_When I can't find the words, you teach my heart to speak,_

_You make it real for me_

The New York sun continues to burn brightly over the city even as it starts to descend, washing the buildings below with a glow of orange and pink and purple. Kurt and Blaine sit in silence save for the odd lyric being sang softly. They watch the skyline and listen to the music and lyrics, feeling the pulse of the beat of the song and of each other’s hearts.

 

Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s middle, rests his chin on Blaine shoulders and lets his body relax around Blaine. In return he hears and feels Blaine’s little sigh of bliss, and smiles as he leans back into Kurt’s embrace.

 

Life may be tough, it _will_ be tough. Things will get said that shouldn’t be said, somebody may walk away from a situation that needs both of their time and attention. But those things are minor, they are temporary.

 

Kurt and Blaine are a constant. They are permanent; they are real and for forever.

_Everybody's talking in words I don't understand,_

_You've got to be the only one who knows just who I am_

_And you're shining in the distance,_

_I hope I can make it through_

_'Cause the only place that I want to be is right back home with you_

As the song draws to a close, Blaine shifts and shuffles and eventually rises up and scrambles off of Kurt’s knee. Laughing he holds a hand out, helps Kurt stand and then kicks the bean bag and the crate out of the way.

 

He looks at Kurt expectantly but Kurt doesn’t need him to ask. He steps forward into Blaine’s arms and together they sway and sidestep in tiny, careful circles as the sun goes down over New York City and the leftover burning embers of the little barbeque tray smoulder.

_I guess there's so much more I have to learn,_

_But if you're here with me, I know which way to turn_

_You always give me somewhere, somewhere I can run,_

_You make it real for me_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading : )


End file.
